Iris

Thursday morning, the most unwelcome man waited outside my business in a gray suit that was too similar to the one I'd called my favorite. Back then, I could count the number of silver streaks in his hair, but now, too many threaded through the black.

"Iris." His hand fidgeted around a flower bouquet. "Sorry for showing up unannounced, but—"

"Get out of here."

John winced and extended the bouquet, part peace offering, part shield. I snatched the arrangement, raised the flowers overhead, and swung at him.

"Iris!" He ducked and scuttled back a step. "I can explain."

"There is. Nothing. To explain." I swatted on each word. Petals burst like miniature fireworks onto his coat. "Lying, cheating scumbag."

"Stop! You-you're making a scene."

Damn right, I was. I wanted a bigger scene than when I threw my engagement ring in his face. Sidewalk stranger embarrassment was nothing compared to finding him in our bed with Bethany. Business partner Bethany, he'd assured me countless times.

What an idiot I was for believing him.

Emma rushed to the window, curls bouncing over her shoulders on her stop. Chloe gaped like she debated whether to grab popcorn or the mace sprays.

I gave another swat, and the coward raised his hands. "Bethany wanted—"

My former friend, like him, could kick rocks, so I stepped around him. "I don't care."

"She's pregnant."

Pregnant. The word pulsed through me with each pained heartbeat. Trembling, I lowered the green stems in my hand. He expected a child with his former mistress-turned-girlfriend.

He de-flowered his shoulders until the last petals fluttered down like abandoned confetti. "I thought you should hear it from me."

A turmoil of betrayal and rage churned in my stomach. I wanted to scream, cry, something. I'd rehearsed our next conversation a hundred times in my mind, but faced with this news, my throat locked up. What could I say?

"I never want to see you again." I threw the empty, lifeless stems at his feet.

My office entrance scattered Chloe and Emma off the window. Unable to face them, I stared at the couples' pictures behind the desk. Their beaming smiles blurred, and the wall clock's seconds ticked slower than my pounding heart.

"Chloe?" I pointed at John's retreating figure. "That man is never allowed here again."

"Yes, Ma'am."

The office was disturbingly quiet, my assistant frozen like a statue. Whispers of our breaths were the only sounds as I smoothed my hair off my sweaty face. This morning's blow-out was ruined into frazzled strands, and my body pumped out more heat than the radiators.

How could I lose control so quickly? I wasn't acting like someone whose ex no longer affected them, but jealous and petty.

My chest stuttered with a forced breath, and I didn't notice I was crying until a tear tickled my cheek. I flicked it aside.

When would it not hurt anymore? When could I look at John without feeling like a dam bursting open? Emma's gaze was the only one I could meet, and I threw every question into it. She absorbed them with a sympathetic silence.

"Mister Dalton is in your office," Chloe whispered. "And ten more on his legal staff are coming for your meeting."

Here? Already?

"We should reschedule," Emma said.

"No." I dragged a finger over my damp lashes, thankful my mascara was waterproof. A quick check showed my liner and shadow weren't too smudged, and the red irritation in the corners could pass for the cold. "Just give me a minute."

After a few forced breaths, my brain snapped back into work mode. "Did you say ten more lawyers?" Someone didn't like my suggested changes, and I groaned at Xavier arriving thirty minutes early. Why was it raining irritable men? "I need both of you in the meeting, please."

They nodded, and I took slow, purposeful steps. A client seeing my armor cracked was my worst nightmare, especially this one.

Beyond his broad silhouette and the windows, the city moved in a blur. People passed with purpose and direction. But, here, uncertainty hung in the air thicker than the fog outside. It was in the fidget of my fingers hugging my coat after I removed it, residual heat on my cheeks, and my weight shifting between each foot.

"Good morning."

"Quite a spirited display, Ms. Miller." His business tone was in full force, commanding, tight, and just plain irritating.

The trajectory of his gaze ended where broken petals blew down the sidewalk. Emma framed a quote in her office—Realization is an awakening, a coming into consciousness. It's the moment when the heart and mind speak the same language.

In this iteration, though, mine said, 'Oh shit.'

So much for a professional redo.

Xavier's eyes swam in mirth. "Ex-boyfriend?"

The question was loaded with provocation and curiosity, and I was prepared to confront neither. "Do you need something, or do you always arrive thirty minutes ahead of your meetings?"

Eyebrows raised at my grumpy tone, and amusement coated his expression as he inspected me. "I came to discuss your contract chances. Although some details are fuzzy. Which clause entitles me to flower bludgeoning?"

Before I answered, his gaze floated over my left shoulder. Two petals were entangled in my hair, which I removed with a swat. "Don't tempt me. He was not a client, but I'm sorry you witnessed that. It won't happen again."

"For his sake, I hope not." Satisfaction brightened his eyes. "And for mine, I hope he deserved it."

"What changes are we discussing?" The challenge against his passive aggressiveness was the diversion I needed. Today had started horrendously, and I wasn't indulging in his flirting again. "Don't worry, the extent you'll go for bribery is a secret."

"Bribery?" Scowling, all of his relaxed muscles strained. Petty, but his inflictions were my joy. "I've never—"

"Been able to identify teasing. Noted." I held up a hand. "You should have received my amendment."

"Your bullshit amendment."

So, he'd noticed the suggestion he might not make it through our application process, which would nullify our contract, and it pricked his ego. Good.

"Can we take a walk?" he asked, eyes as cloudy as the antique glass windows he stared through. "Get a coffee or whatever you drink? The air here is suffocating. Old radiators, you know."

My body still churned with residual anxiety, and his cologne would be less distracting if blown away, so I nodded. The brush of his fingers along the back of my arms was as unexpected as his helping me into my coat. Steady fingers swept aside my hair and grazed my neck.

The shiver across my shoulders turned my smile unsteady. "Thank you."

I led him out, his hand on my back guiding me through my office slacking once we were outside. Behind the window, Chloe's double thumbs-up was unnecessary.

A coffee house was next door, but he steered me in the opposite direction. I couldn't help but appreciate our path away from where I'd confronted John. Was Xavier considering my feelings? The possibility was disconcerting, because I couldn't afford anything beyond a professional distance.

The heat from his body was oddly soothing, and I fought against the urge to relax into his directive hand. How easy compliance under his command felt spread warning signs up my spine and raised the hairs on my neck.

While the contracts weren't signed, it was assumed 'they weren't signed yet.' Our arrangement branded him as acquaintance-zoned.

Two blocks later, his phone chimed. "My team needs thirty more minutes."

"Fine." Every minute here was away from clients who appreciated my help. I stopped and turned. "Call me when ready."

"Nice try." Two hands clamped my shoulders and redirected me. "We'll walk until then."

"Bossy much?" I scoffed. "You'd better have somewhere specific in mind."

"I do."

For a couple of blocks, we didn't feel like enemies sparring off against each other but amicable lunch buddies. He knew a lot about the neighborhood, oddities and facts about buildings, and he caught many curious eyes. Enviable looks from the business district workers and women paused their conversations and sidewalk pursuits.

Annoyingly, traffic also parted for the attractive man.

Every few steps of wherever we headed, I snuck side glances when possible. He was tall and fit, borderline athletic, polished but not manscaped. His uniform was a tailored black suit, a white dress shirt with its top button open, and no tie.

One block from the waterfront, he stopped and pointed up. "This."

A tall, modern silver building stood in front of us. I couldn't see the top no matter how far back I leaned. It disappeared beyond the wisps of this morning's fog.

"Dalton Tower." He sounded like he introduced a new family addition. "We moved in the day you and I met."

I felt small and meek, but wondering if the tall, rectangular column was him compensating made me stifle a laugh. "Very impressive."

"Have you eaten lunch?"

The random question made me snap my head sideways. "Hmm?"

Despite being ten thirty, he stopped at a nearby food truck. Tacos its colorful signage showed. "Chicken or beef?"

"Chicken." I accepted one with a tentative smile, thankful for less messy soft shell, and we sat on a nearby bench. "Your assistant, Annie, seems on board with your match process. Are you a bore in the office?"

Cue an instant scowl. "When did you two speak?"

"The day you and I met," I reused his words. She'd also informed me the irises weren't well-received. "Trust me, lack of personality and destroying the irises aren't deal breakers."

"Your amendment is unnecessary." Irritated Xavier, with a slow red flush creeping up his neck, calmed me further.

"It's very necessary," I cooed in as sickly-sweet tone as possible and suppressed a moan at the warm spice flavor. "I can't be seen or interpreted as being bribed into unconditional acceptance. Trust me, you'll have the same chance as all our applicants."

His eyes narrowed at every dismissive 'Trust me,' and I was living for saying them. "It's not a bribe! This is madness." His hand twitched on his knee like he refrained from choking me. "You said if you matched me—"

"Which implies you're eligible to be matched, including being open and amenable to relationships."

"Ms. Miller." Xavier took a large bite, hating the shift in leverage. I could deny him membership and make our deal dead on arrival, which was my plan.

Slithering under his skin was so satisfying. I set a hand on his arm and attempted another babying voice, "Do you have any concerns about why you wouldn't qualify? Trust me, the process is confidential and fair."

"No." The tight bicep under his sleeve and invisible steam out of his red ears said otherwise. He finished his taco and checked his phone. "I have concerns about your neutrality."

"Neutrality?"

"I'm within my right to question your motives." He scoffed.

My mouth opened with a comeback insult, but I snapped it shut and stood. He was right. There was no friendliness between us, and my taco was now a rock in my stomach.

"Why did you bring me here?" I clipped. "Showing off for your application?"

"I believe in being neighborly," was the curt, emotionless response. "For all of my properties. You'll love the Cambridge location. All your neighbors are moving, and there's a financial advisor across the street if you need their services."

Like hell I'd ever move closer to John's business. The implication settled in deeper on the return walk. He couldn't have stooped so low as to contact John... Could he?

The glimmer in his eyes was untrustworthy. Four months of no contact and John's appearance on the exact morning of our contract signing seemed less of a coincidence the more we walked.

As he walked with relaxed shoulders, collected sunlight on his handsome features, and directed our small talk, the tighter I hugged myself and walked faster.

He had interfered! And I'd almost...shit, finger-blasted to him. Tormenting him, but still, humiliating.

How much I'd underestimated this man's audacity burned me hotter and hotter. This was the dirtiest move and the visceral reminder I needed.

To him, matchmaking was a joke. By extension, I was a joke. My company would never reach his success level, but it mattered to my clients, my staff, and me.

I couldn't wait to toss out this overstepping bastard's ass during the application process.

Chloe's curious eyes welcome us back. "Iris, there's, umm, a lot of people in the conference room."

"Excellent," I muttered.

All of us assembled in the conference room. To improve the body count ratio against Xavier's miniature army of suited lawyers, my team sat like corpses.

Our meeting dragged, page after page and condition after condition. Motives. The word pulsed through me with each heartbeat, each stabbing a mental voodoo doll image of this horrible man. Right into his heartless chest.

Finally, the last signatures were placed. My legs ached as I stood, but he wasted no time and approached. His hand gripped mine with a finger-crushing squeeze, and his mouth lingered near my ear.

"Feel free to leave your furniture behind."

I offered my sweetest smile. "I look forward to finding your soulmate and hearing your public endorsement of Perfect Match...if you qualify."

His hand squeezed harder, and I gasped from the pressure. The graze of his breath down my neck made my skin tingle, but I curled my fingers and gouged his palm. He winced, released my hand, gathered his papers and lawyer platoon, and we left the room unhappy and primed for battle.

Emma's apprehensive expression mirrored the nerves rising in me. Now, the real work began—proving this man wanted nothing to do with relationships.